


Tech Support

by softsylvie



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Demencia gets to be... Demencia, Flug effs with a wannabe villain's head pretty much, Flug gets to be a manipulative little shit, You Have Been Warned, a bit of graphic violence towards the end, this one plays with some dark humor oops, though Black Hat plays a part too so take that as you will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 03:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13872558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softsylvie/pseuds/softsylvie
Summary: A would-be villain whose MO is tech scamming learns the hard way why Black Hat Inc. is NOT a smart target.No, really.  Don't do it.





	Tech Support

Flug was, for the first time in about eight months, hitting his deadlines. 

Now if this wasn’t a cause for celebration, nothing was.  Not with the beat _Flug_ kept, which could run about the same tumble as a Bronx CEO juggling accounts and a shnozz full of coke, on a good day.  As it happened, Flug had finally wrapped up the last page on Black Hat Inc.’s autumn catalog (a _particularly_ atmospheric _and_ practical corpse revival kit, for the modern necromancer on the go).  The patented summoning formula worked, as his employer had promised, but Flug was particular about test phases before sending anything into the market.  It didn’t pay to piss off A) an entire demographic comprised of deranged psychopaths and moral deviants, or more importantly, B) Black Hat. 

So today was a rarity among quadrennial events.

Flug was _taking some time off._

He was seated at his computer for just such an occasion, grinning underneath that paper bag.  The current screen on his virtual machine?  Riddled with malicious pop-ups.  He’d stumbled on a virus that some wannabe villain had unleashed on the company forums, one who was likely cackling to themselves now, thinking they were hot shit.

It wasn’t a bad show of initiative, per se.  But still, Flug had created tougher viruses in high school, for god’s sake.

The central window on his screen pronounced his computer nearly inoperable, but oh, fear not!  For this window had been pragmatic enough, _gracious_ enough to leave a contact number that wasn’t in any way verified.

How _thoughtful._

“Eh, why not!”  Flug said, smirking, pulling up the comlink app and dialing.  “This should be a nice way to spend the morning!”

There was the sound of a phone ringing… and ringing… and ringing…

Flug scowled.  _Nice customer service, there, dick.  Black Hat would have_ throttled _me if I let the phones ring for that long –_

“ _Oh,_ hel _lo_ there, pathetic worm!”  A voice cackled on the other end of the line, low and throaty at first, before cracking on what sounded like those first sweet notes of incoming puberty.  “I imagine you’re calling because _you_ have fallen prey to _my_ ingenious creation!!”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Flug replied as flatly as he could, hiding every hint of that shit eating grin he was wearing.  “Listen, I don’t have time for this!  I can’t get b-back to work with my computer l-like this!  Boss will have my head if I can’t get this computer up and running again, a-and I have deadlines to meet, this c-can’t be happening, oh god, this c-can’t be happening!” 

Hey, to be fair, Flug had suffered enough panic attacks in his lifetime that he knew how to throw in just the right amount of tremors, set to just the right pace.  He knew how to speak to the thump of a racing heart, how to seemingly undam himself where it simply couldn’t be helped.  He could fake it _painfully_ well by this point. 

Black Hat was a key player to thank for that.

Squeaky McAwkward rewarded him with another round of smug, evil laughter, this one even worse than the last.  Flug had to gnaw into his lip to keep from losing his shit.  “ _Another_ one fallen prey to _The Virus,_ begging for his _puny_ machine as it falls under _my_ control!  It’s so… _funny,_ how dependent we’ve all become on technology, _isn’t_ it?”

“Y-yeah, a real… Pandora’s box,” Flug whimpered, forcing himself to keep in character.  It wasn’t hard, considering all he had to do was imagine what Black Hat would have done if this small fry somehow _had_ managed to actually infect the company’s computer network.

“So tell me, _pathetic worm,_ what are you willing to _pay_ The Virus to have your precious machine working again?” The Virus sneered, and breathing heavily into his phone.  “Just… how much would you say your information, your files, all your data is _worth_ to you?”

“A-any amount!  I can pay it,” Flug cried.  “N-name your price and let’s get this over with, b-but just gimme back my stuff, _please,_ I-I can’t work without it…!” 

“What the fuck are you whinin’ about in here, Nerd?”

Jolting in his seat, Flug immediately muted the communication app and spun around. 

Skittering along the wall of what Flug would call the more personal quarters of his lab was none other than Demencia, giving him an amused look.  She threw him a grin that reached for her eyes, as she flipped down from the wall head first and landed with the grace of an alley cat right beside him. 

Demencia peered around his shoulder, still smirking.  “What’re you _doing?_ Are you …?”  She leaned a bit more around him to better glimpse his screen, eyes going wide.  “Dude!  Did you get a _virus?_ You’re _totally_ in deep shit when Black Hat finds out!”

Flug snorted.  “Hardly,” he said, with just a hint of indignation.  “I’m running a _virtual machine,_ Demencia.  It's only a _simulation_ of an operating system, my _real_ computer’s just fine.  As if I’d be stupid enough to fall for something like this.  _Please._ ”

The young woman quirked a brow, clearly puzzled by this twist to the situation, if not a bit disappointed.  “Then what’re you on the phone for?  Who’re you talkin’ to?”

“I’m talking to our would-be scammer,” Flug replied tersely.  “Which is why _you_ need to be quiet!  If you blow my cover then he’ll hang up!” 

Demencia lit up.  “Ohhh, so you’re _pranking_ him!” 

Flug shrugged.  “Well, that and I’m gonna destroy his PC and potentially get his bank information.  So yeah, you could say that.”  He was hardly in this for the vigilantism, after all.  If people were stupid enough to click the obviously shady link that _The Virus_ had slapped up on the forums, it was none of his business.

“I wanna play!  I wanna play!”

“All right, all right!  Just…!”  Flug gestured impatiently.  “Keep your voice down!  Let _me_ do all the talking!”

Demencia pouted but fell silent, reassuring Flug enough to turn around and unmute the call.

“ _Where are you?!  Don’t you dare ignore me!!  Don’t you daaaare ignore meeeeee!!_ ”  The Virus shrieked on the other end, his voice climbing a few octaves into the always respectable glass shattering range.  “Nobody ignores _The Virus_ and hopes to access _PornHub_ ever again!!  _Ever!!  Never ever!!_ ”      

Demencia howled with ugly laughter as she buckled. 

To be fair, Flug had to mute the call so he could laugh, too.  There was no way he could have held up in the face of that, no way, no fucking how.  “All right, all right,” he chuckled out, drawing a quick breath to steel himself.  “Seriously though, shhh.” 

He unmuted the call again, clearing his throat.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” Flug threw in, just before The Virus could fly into another one of his rants.  “I-I’m sorry, I-I dropped m-my phone behind m-my d-d-desk!  M-my hands are shaking, I-I don’t know what to d-do…!”

A long pause descended, punctuated in part by The Virus’ blustery, enraged-horse breathing.  “Well… _that’s_ more _like it,_ ” The Virus said with a defiant sniff.  “I was _going_ to hang up on you, you know.  I don’t have _time_ to wait around for _puny_ and pathetic worms like _you,_ all day.”

Before Flug could answer proper, Demencia lunged up over him with the look of an utter nut.  “It rubs the lotion on its skin, or else it _gets the hose–_ ”

“Demencia, stop it!!” 

Flug almost muted the call again, but it was already too late.  “ _Who_ is _that?  Identify_ this other _worm,_ ” The Virus demanded. 

He’d barely shoved Demencia back to the floor, but the answer was already right there waiting for him. “T-that’s…!  She’s m-my, uh… m-my sister,” Flug spluttered out.  “M-my _sick_ sister!  She has dementia, a-and I-I work for my boss so t-that I can a-afford her m-medication!  Please, sir!  Please!  I c-can’t lose this job, I can’t, this job means everything to us!  P-please…!”

The Virus only chortled in wicked delight.  Hook, line, sinker.  “Ah, so there is much _more_ than a _machine_ on the line,” he crowed, and Flug could just about hear the little jack-off rubbing his hands together diabolically.  It was something all the rookies did, he’d noticed, in his time at the Hat Academy.  “I like that.  I _really_ do.  I _love_ the sound of families coming apart via malware in the morning!”

_Yeah.  I’m sure._

“U-um… that’s not… very nice,” Flug muttered as lamely as he could.  That was something a civilian would cough up, right? 

“Of course it isn’t!  I’m _only_ the most _diabolical_ mind to rise into the ranks of _villainy_ since Black Hat himself!” 

Flug almost had to mute the call a third time, but managed to contain some hideous laughter with a hard swallow.

“I’m sure you know what happens next, but just in case you are an _ignorant_ worm, today is your lucky day,” The Virus continued, clearly quite happy to be back in the center ring of this show again.  “The Virus is feeling _merciful_ today, so listen to my instructions, and you shall _have_ your pathetic machine back within your control.”

“Y-yes, yes!  Yes, whatever you need!” 

“Go to the website, ViralNetwork dot com, and download the program you see there.  Open it, and then inform me when you have done so, to await _further_ instructions.”

Flug rolled his eyes, but obeyed nevertheless.  He knew the basic anatomy of these scams: you find a problem, you get a remote-access program, you let in the scammer, and they ‘fix’ your machine for a ‘miniscule’ fee of a few hundred dollars.  A pretty scummy thing to do to someone’s grandma on a free weekend, but hardly all that sinister.

The Virus’ remote access program downloaded seamlessly, and Flug opened it on the spot.  Sitting with her legs crossed on the floor, Demencia watched on with an expression so vehemently bored she was starting to drool out of the corner of her mouth.

“Don’t worry,” Flug leaned over to assure her in a whisper.  “It’s gonna start getting good after this.”

“What was that, _worm?_ ” The Virus spat hotly.  “Have you _finished_ the download?  Are you ready to cooperate _further_ with _The Virus?_ ”

“Y-yes, sir.  I-I’m ready!  It’s… it’s given me an identification number, a-and a p-password.  Am I g-gonna need those…?”

“Of course you are,” The Virus snapped.  “That’s the whole _point_ of downloading that program, you _fool._ Now, give me your number and password.”

 Flug passed it along, and The Virus proceeded to connect.  He knew it was done when the cursor on the virtual machine began to dart about on its own, likely seeking any desktop files that would catch his interest right off.  It was modeled after any normal person’s desktop; Flug figured leaving files named ‘MY BANK ACCOUNT’ or ‘ALL MY FINANCIAL RECORDS.txt’ lying around would have tipped him off to the game too soon. 

“Yes, _excellent,_ ” The Virus finally said, after an initial bout of exploring.  “So you see that _I_ am wholly in control of your _pitiful_ machine now, yes?”

“I-I see…!” 

“And you understand that I may, at any point, decide to _end_ the life of your _inferior_ machine if you should _anger_ me?”

“P-please don’t…!” 

“Then do as I say, exactly as I say it,” The Virus said.  He pulled up a notepad file and maximized the window across Flug’s screen.  “Type in your name, _worm._ ”

Flug was about to do exactly this, with a made-up name in mind, when Demencia lunged up over his shoulder again – _damn_ she was _fast_ – and began typing furiously. 

_MIKE HUNT_ flickered unceremoniously across the document. 

_Oh for god’s sake, Demencia…!_

“Mike Hunt, eh?” The Virus asked.  “What a _wormy…_ dumb… name, you have, Mike Hunt!  You should _rue_ the day your mother ever gazed upon you and proclaimed you, Mike Hunt!” 

Demencia had long toppled back to the floor, biting her lip, pounding said floor with a fist while she shook with violent laughter.  How she kept so quiet, Flug would chalk it up to his monthly miracle budget.

“Y-yes, I’ve… um…!” 

“Make silence now, Mike Hunt!  Now, you shall type in your banking information.  Give to The Virus your bank and account number, everything I shall need for this… _transaction._ Clearing out my virus doesn’t come _cheap,_ after all.”

“O-of course it wouldn’t,” Flug forced a stutter.  “A v-virus of this caliber i-is unheard of, Mr. Virus, sir!” 

Flug of course fed him a glorious pile of bullshit.  Fake bank, fake numbers, fake everything, as The Virus would find out the instant he tried to plug it all in. 

“What is _this?!_ Are you trying to pull some sort of _joke?!_ ” 

And there it was.  Flug grinned almost lewdly, preparing himself for the second step to this operation.  If he’d gauged this little wannabe right – and he certainly had no reason to believe he hadn’t – then this would be almost _too_ easy.

“Oh, uh… I-I forgot to… to m-mention something, Mr. Virus, s-sir,” Flug whimpered.  “Um… this is… uh, a little embarrassing to a-admit, b-but um…!”

“Speak, you insignificant fool,” The Virus snapped.  “I haven’t got all day.”

“This isn’t the first time this has h-happened to me, okay?!” Flug snapped back, though he was careful to mind the balance of spine he was throwing into this.  A single wrong note could find this whole thing pear shaped.  “S-so my bank gave me this… this p-program, that… that I have to boot up e-every time I m-make a transaction, on my computer…!  It’s a special security program that they m-made, just for customers like me!  I-it’s an encryption p-program, a-and it has to be on b-both ends, for me to complete a transaction on the c-computer, or it won’t work!  I-I-I can’t pay you!” 

The Virus seemed to consider this. 

Flug went very still in his chair.    

“I see,” The Virus said at length, and Flug let out his drawn breath.  “Yes, I suppose these banks had to take more drastic security measures sooner or later.  _Fools,_ for all the good it did them and their _precious_ customers.”

_Oh my god._ Flug could barely contain his excitement.  _Oh my god, he’s actually buying it.  He’s actually buying it!_

“Send me this program so that I may have it on my machine, then,” The Virus ordered.

“R-right away, Mr. Virus!” 

And grinning viciously like the utter madman he was, Flug sent over the ‘program’.  The Virus, as stupid as he was theatrical, proceeded to open it right then and there.

A small window popped up outside the VM, and Flug had a _very_ nice view of The Virus’ desktop.  He rolled his eyes; a black background with green digitalized crossbones, of course, with some pretentious Latin underneath.  It was cluttered with files, each more inanely named than the last, from BADSTUFF2.txt to EVILGENIOUSPLANS.pdf right down to AWESOMENEWCOSUTME.png. 

For the love of all that was malevolent, if you were going to flash your evil to any probing authorities or particularly heroic tech heads, it paid to at least ensure the file name was spelled correctly.  For a moment, Flug was embarrassed to share his species with someone. 

Demencia, having found this particular turn interesting, had sprung up once more to hang off the arm of his chair. 

Flug muted the call.  “I’m in,” he declared proudly.  “Now, let’s have a look at who we’re dealing with, here…”

“Bet’cha ten bucks he’s in his mom’s basement,” Demencia said brightly.

“That or a private school dorm room,” Flug said.  “Either’s probable, really.  He has no idea what he’s actually doing, or what he’s just let _me_ do, so I’m gonna guess that mommy and daddy paid for fancy software he needed and he just took off from there.”

He promptly opened the computer’s built in camera, and the two were treated to a sight that left Flug grateful that he’d muted the call in a bout of foresight. 

The Virus was sitting impatiently at his computer, mouth sourly pursed under a purple hashtag shaped mask that was three times larger than his actual face.  A face, Flug privately noted, that was about as white as a slate of chalk.  He’d figured out by now that he’d been muted, since he was now banging his fists on his desk, rattling the camera and sending spit flying into the lens as he ranted in silence. 

Demencia jabbed a finger at the screen.  “Oooh, oooh, there’s a radiator right there behind him,” she chirped happily.  “Basement it is, you owe me ten bucks!” 

“Oh come on,” Flug said plaintively.  “It could _still_ be a private dorm room.”

“Pffft, no way.  They’d _never_ let some snot nosed little shit decorate their room like that!”

“How do _you_ know?  They could have let him if daddy put enough money into the system,” Flug said, with no small bite of bitterness. 

Demencia bit her lip, concealing a Cheshire cat's smile.  “Man, you really got it out for rich kids, don’t’cha, Bag Boy?  What’s your _problem?_ ” 

“Nothing!  I just hate it when these spoiled little snobs think they can barge right into it and make an embarrassment out of our field,” Flug grumbled.  “At least when they think they’re _heroes_ because they can afford the goofy costume and gadgets, it’s actually pretty _funny._ This, though…?”

He motioned to the screen, where The Virus was now thundering at such a volume that Flug could see a vein bulging on the kid’s reddening neck. 

This was just sad.

“Mm.  Yeah, I feel ya,” Demencia said with an almost sagely nod, an action so strange on her that Flug almost chanced a double take.  “What?  I don’t like posers in my scene, either.  They can be a pain in the ass until you handle ‘em.”

Flug was almost afraid to ask, but ask he did.  “What do you mean by… handle ‘em, exactly?”

A shrug later, Demencia was wearing that grin that often warned Flug of incoming chaos, of the boulder-tumbling-haphazardly-through-the-furthest-reaches-of-Hell variety.  He almost winced and threw his arms up accordingly to better shield himself. 

“Baseball bat, crow bar, lead pipe, piece of headboard,” Demencia started rattling off casually, before breaking into laughter.  “Hell, those vampire books get the job done well enough, too!  Oh, oh!!  And the badgers!  No one will ever forget the _badgers!_ They didn’t even recognize him when they pulled him out!” 

Flug sighed.  “I’m… yeah.  I don’t know why I asked.”  He turned back to the keyboard, where the communication app was still suitably muted.  “Might wanna back away a little bit.  He’s probably not very happy with me right now.”

Demencia snickered.  “Bring it!”

He unmuted the call, and they were both assaulted by what sounded like someone bellowing through a door on creaky hinges. 

“I WILL _FIND YOU!  I WILL TRACK YOU!!  NO ONE IGNORES THE VIRUS!!  YOU WILL NOT DARE IGNORE MEEEEE MIIIIKE HUUUUUUNT!!_ ” 

“Oh good, he’s even trying to syskey me now,” Flug said dryly, watching the mouse attempt to drag up something on the start bar.  “Yeah, let me go ahead and stop you right there, Virus.  It’s been fun, but I think I have about all the files I need by now.”

The Virus stopped mid-screech, his fury lost.  The silence that descended was abrupt, and it was ugly, the sort that followed the rather violent burst of a large bubble.  “What…?”  He sounded genuinely confused.  If Flug were any softer, he might have felt bad for him.  “W-what…?  _I_ am in control of this machine!  Where is your _fear?_ Why aren’t you _begging?!_ It would be a _shame_ if you were to lose your _job_ and your _sister_ for one moment of grandstanding!” 

“Yeah, okay,” Flug replied evenly, looking down at a progress bar he’d opened earlier.  His program had just about finished transferring everything he would need, and from the looks of it, there _was_ going to be something of use in all this mess after all.  “Listen, word of advice, kid?  Rule seventy-seven of remedial villainy: don’t become cocky until _after_ your enemy is defeated.  Seriously, it’s one of the basics.”

“ _What?!_ You _dare_ to speak to _me_ in such a manner?!” 

“Uh… yeah?  Nice costume, by the way.”

The Virus sputtered for a few glorious seconds, flummoxed, bamboozled.  He’d even leapt from his chair, backing away from his monitor as if it had grown fangs and struck at him.  He staggered almost drunkenly where he stood as his chair tipped over, adjusting his mask, trying frantically to shrink back into the shadows (Demencia might have been right, it _did_ look like a basement after all).  “Y-you…!  _You…!_ I don’t know who you _think_ you are, but you are _never_ going to hear the last of me!!”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m about spent right now,” Flug said quite casually.  “I mean, it was funny at first, but… yeah, I should probably get back to work on my actual computer, now.”

“I…!  I will _have_ my _vengeance…!!_ ” The Virus began in another furious crescendo, clenching his fist at his camera.  “You will _pay for this with your very lives!!  NO ONE WASTES MY TIME!  NO ONE!!”_

Demencia threw her head back, cracking up.  “Oh my god, is this fucker _serious?_ ”

“ **Flug!** ” 

Now _that_ particular voice, as coarse as rusty nails across gravel and as dark as ichor?  _That_ was a voice that found Flug sitting straight up, sweat beading already down the back of his skinny neck.  He reached up to mute the call again in a hurry.  He almost didn’t dare to turn, except he knew he had to.  Facing forward would just make it worse. 

Black Hat gusted into the lab like a storm, looking no less aggravated than usual, though Flug wasn’t about to try his hand at gauging his employer’s mood either way.  The entity’s hardened gaze flickered from Flug to Demencia, rather pointedly ignoring the latter’s dreamy schoolgirl sigh. 

“What the hell is this?” Black Hat asked sharply.  “What’s all this bloody racket down here?  You mind explaining to me why I can’t spend Saturday morning getting ready for brunch without some loudmouthed arse shooting off his gob?”

Flug stared at him incredulously.  “Uh… brunch, sir?”

“I always go to brunch after running down orphans, Flug!  You know that!”

“Ah, right.”

Black Hat shot a penetrating glare at the computer, and for half a second Flug feared he’d be shelling out half his next paycheck for a new one in one flash from that monocle.  Thankfully, that didn’t seem to be the case as Black Hat strode up to it.  “What’s all this?”

“Uh…!  W-well, sir, uh… someone tried to scam us with a computer virus,” Flug began carefully.

“How can it get a _virus?_ ” Black Hat quipped, raising a rather sharp brow at him.  “It’s a goddamn computer, a _machine,_ Flug.” 

“Not that kind of virus, sir,” Flug said hurriedly.  “Um, but it’s okay, because I took care of it…!  I’ve been on the phone stringing him along and, I, uh, I even got the scammer’s bank information, s-so, uh, I… guess you can give yourself another raise…?”

“Yeah,” Demencia chimed in helpfully.  “We were pranking him!!” 

Black Hat grunted some modicum of satisfaction at that, apparently unoffended by the idea, much to Flug’s relief.  “Hm.  Yes.  Right.  Let _me_ give it a try,” he said, flashing a teal grin of shark’s teeth.  “Put the little plonker back on the line.”

“U-um… o-okay…?”

Flug wasn’t all too confident in Black Hat’s ability with prank calls, but he figured it couldn’t hurt by this point.  The Virus could probably stand this incoming lesson in humility, the scientist couldn’t say he was entirely opposed.  He reached up to unmute the call accordingly. 

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” Demencia squealed, barely able to contain herself.  “Black Hat prank calling people and _I get to see it!_ It’s gonna be the best, _ever!_ ”

Black Hat leaned in close, the better to be heard by the communication app.  “Hello?” he asked gruffly, cutting across yet another of The Virus’ little tirades.  “Hello?  Who the hell’s this?”

“AND _WHEN_ YOU THINK YOU HAVE FOUND REST AT LAST, MY WRATH WILL BE… be…!”  The Virus trailed off slowly in what could have only been sheer disbelief.  Flug could almost gauge his thoughts perfectly.  No way, he would be thinking.  No way, no fucking way, there is no way that voice sounded like who I thought it was. 

Such was the typical reaction of small time villains and rookie heroes unfortunate enough to cross Black Hat’s path. 

“Yes, hello?” Black Hat tried again, reaching up to tap at Flug’s screen for good measure.  “’Oi.  Do you have Prince Albert in a can?”

The following pause was rather… prolonged.

“W-what?” The Virus stammered, sounding quite a bit more subdued, now.  “Is…?!  Is this Black Hat?!  Impossible!  There’s no way–”

“Well, now you’ve gone and ruined the joke,” Black Hat grumbled.  Yet somehow, he didn’t seem too upset by it.  In fact, Flug noticed, his face was contorting because no being that resided presently in this reality should have been able to smile so… _hugely._ Slowly, gradually, his teeth seemed to become larger, as ropy green strands of saliva coalesced down his chin.  “ **So let’s try another one, guv.  Knock, knock.** ”

“U-u-um…!!  W-who’s, wh…!”  The Virus’ voice trembled.  Nothing but regret, nothing but painful realization. 

As the kids online would say, it was at this point, Virus knew he fucked up.

Black Hat, face still stretching to accommodate that wild jackal’s grin, reached up to touch the screen with a single finger. 

“W-w-who’s…!  Who’s t-there…!” The Virus finally spat out, after scrounging for the words.  “W-who’s…!  Wait… wait, no!  _No! **Fuck!!**_ ” 

Flug’s gaze darted to the camera feed he’d hacked into, heart pounding.

The Virus’ basement had grown very, very dark. 

Pitch blackness swallowed him as he tried to turn and retreat, presumably from whatever horror had started to clamber out of his screen.  Flug could see just the barest traces of its silhouette, too; large, its back thickly humped, its ribs twitching with spindled legs, its gray flesh leathery with a face as prognathous as one of the early apes.  Flug could only get a blurry view of it from behind, but it was enough for him.  It was enough to know that no, no, he wouldn’t be hearing from The Virus, never again.

Black Hat watched with an almost guileless smile as the feed fell into utter darkness.  There were screams, the howls of a trapped rabbit.  There was the crunch of bone.  The wrench of _something_ wet and quite attached being pulled rudely from the sockets.  The sound of sobbing, wailing, from the half crumpled mess of what _were_ his lungs as they hung now out of his chest.  

Flug took that time to avert his eyes, staring down at his sneakers while trying to ignore the brutal twist of his stomach. 

Eventually, the feed cut. 

“You see that, Flug?” Black Hat said cheerfully, going so far as to clap him on the shoulder, even.  “How’s _that_ for those fancy computers of yours?  There’s your technology!  Simple!”    

“Um… w-well played, sir,” Flug said numbly. 

“Now get to work on that bank account.  I’ve got a _lovely_ brunch to get to.”

Demencia glanced up at their employer hopefully. "Can we come?!" 

A pensive beat followed this, as Black Hat considered it. Then he sighed, still smiling, and replied cheerfully: "Hm... well... No. Fuck no."

Black Hat strode right back out, though in a notably better mood than when he’d entered, Flug would say that much.  The doors to the lab slammed shut behind him.

Flug and Demencia sat quietly for a long, long time.  Flug tried to forcibly press the images out of his mind, but they drew on him like a crowd at Black Friday, waiting eagerly to lunge through the doors and flood him until he flirted with madness.  It was something that would fade, in time.  It would.  But not before he saw that kid, over and over, and that _thing_ crawling out of the screen after him, over and over.

“Let’s call another one,” Demencia finally piped up.  Smiling hugely, hopping up over the arm of his chair again.  “C’mon, go back to the forums, let’s find another one!” 

“All right.  Fine.” 

With shaking hands, Flug clicked on the forums.

“But I’m coming up with the fake name, this time.”

              

**Author's Note:**

> again, thanks for reading!
> 
> any attention and/or concrit really helps and is very much appreciated!
> 
> until next time, kids!!!


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